Fairytale
by seal.step
Summary: The woods on the outskirts of the Hakko Village hold secrets from even the seikun, as young Sou Kishuku discovers.


**Fairytale

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**

Chapter One

_Once there was a mighty king, with power over everything. The king was wise and just, with love beyond compare. But his people knew him not. He blessed them all, but they forgot. Every day he tried to show them how he cared...

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_

Mornings were his favourite time of day. He woke early, before the sun rose, and for all that he loved his family, he treasured the time he had alone, that feeling of being the only person in all creation... It was a feeling soon lost in the bustle of preparing breakfasts, hauling water, and feeding the few animals they could afford to keep. Things worked more smoothly, now that Gyokuran and Chuuei were old enough to be a real help, and even little Yuuiren did her best to complete the few chores that were her responsibility. It was a noisy, disorganised life that they lived, and had been for as long as he could remember. Still, with the exception of healing his father, and perhaps having a bit more money in his pouch, Kishuku knew he wouldn't change things for all the world.

Kishuku smiled to himself as he filled the water pail for the last time, and began the trek back home. Hauling water had been his duty since the day he had turned seven, and had finally managed to convince his mother that it wasn't too dangerous a task to complete by himself. How proud he had been, that first day, when he'd brought the water back - how warmly his mother had thanked him, despite the fact that the pail was only just over halfway filled. The memory was a good one, warm in a bittersweet way, as all memories of his mother were. Sou Yuugetsu had been a truly extraordinary soul, and Kishuku always felt the better for remembering her.

'Nii-san! Be careful with that water!'

Kishuku started at Gyokuran's scolding voice, spilling water down his pants and boots. 'You'd better not let Weiyuan hear you screech like that, little sister, or you just might scare him off before his parents even think of talking to Father,' he teased, not bothering to hide his grin at the sudden flush that spread across the girl's face and neck.

Sullenly, Gyokuran took the pail from him, and began to make her way inside their small home, where Kishuku knew she would soon begin the washing. Relenting, he followed her, and gathered the pile of used bandages that sat just outside the entrance. 'I'm sorry for teasing you, Gyokuran.'

She turned, after carefully placing the water pail on the floor, and smiled cheekily. 'I know you're sorry, Nii-san, but you still should apologise.' Then, as Kishuku sputtered at her impudence, she took the rags from him and began soaking them, hardly paying the water any mind at all as it turned first a pale pink, and then an angry reddish-brown colour from all the blood plastered across the rags. It hurt, suddenly, for Kishuku to see just how matter-of-factly she took things.

Gyokuran was eleven, only just old enough to start noticing the boys in the village, yet she was already preparing for the day when she and Father would accept an offer from one of them. She had no friends in the village, despite the many girls her age, solely because she didn't have time to play with them. For perhaps the first time, Kishuku realised that their mother's death had effected all of them, not just him and Yuuiren, and their father. The thought was a painful one, but more painful still was the realisation that he'd never noticed because he'd never really cared enough to. Not that he didn't love Gyokuran - heavens no! - but certainly it wasn't the same as with Yuuiren, or even Chuuei. Those two, they were special to him. Yuuiren, a mere three months old when their mother had died, was more daughter than sister, and the most precious thing in life to him. Chuuei, though a good four years younger than Kishuku, was the closest in age, and such a sincerely _good_ boy that Kishuku couldn't help but love being with him.

Gyokuran, on the other hand... She was six years younger than him, a dark-haired, dark-eyed wisp of a girl. She was bossy, and sly, and far too knowledgeable for her own good, having tried to find Kishuku a wife more than once, to his eternal consternation. And while she cooked for them, and tried her best to take care of the household, she was far from the gentle, competent woman they both knew Yuugetsu had been. Laundry got lost before she washed it, greens were overcooked at dinner, and Yuuiren's hair went unbrushed at night sometimes. But for once, Kishuku thought about just how much his eleven-year old sister actually accomplished each day, and sat stunned at the thought of it.

True, he went out every day, and worked until it was an effort even to walk home at night. But he was seventeen, a full-grown man, or very nearly. He'd had both parents alive and healthy for eleven of those years, and even after their mother had died, their father had been healthy, and able to support them until he was fifteen. But Gyokuran had only been five when their mother had died; and when, at six, she'd begun to try washing their clothes, and sweeping the house, she'd had no one to show her how to do it. Everything she knew, she'd learned by herself, by doing things again and again until they were right. She was still doing it that way, because things weren't perfect, and she wasn't about to let things rest until they were. Just as she wouldn't let Kishuku alone until she saw him happy with his own family, whether he wanted one or not, because that was just the way things were supposed to be. And she'd done it all alone, more alone than Kishuku had ever had to be.

It was, Kishuku supposed, very much his fault. He'd been so very wrapped up in Yuuiren after their mother's death. The tiny, silent baby had virtually become his world, and he'd practically lived for her. It didn't bother Chuuei or Shunkei too much - those two were wrapped up in their boyish pranks and childhood games to notice that their Nii-chan had turned all his attention to another. But Gyokuran... She'd been fairly close to him, before Yuugetsu's death. She'd adored him, had loved playing with him. Always, she had to be the beautiful princess, and he would be the prince, come to rescue her. Once he'd begun taking sole care of Yuuiren, however, there hadn't been any time for games. Looking back, Kishuku realised how she'd withdrawn from him, her earlier adoration turning into a sullen and pouting acceptance that he honestly cared more for Yuuiren than for her. She hadn't fought, except in the very beginning, perhaps because she'd always been intuitive, enough, at least, to realise that she would never win against the tiny, helpless baby with the pale green eyes. He had a sinking feeling that her sarcasm, bossiness, slight aloofness, all were a way to try and make herself not care.

But how on earth was a little girl supposed to stop caring that the person basically responsible for her found her less valuable, less important, than another? Because it was true: even after watching her carefully clean the dirty wrappings, and tend to their father, he knew that he would never love her the way he loved little Yuuiren. He'd loved his littlest sister like a daughter for too long for that to change, and to be honest, he didn't want it to.

The sound of Gyokuran's footsteps startled him, much as Kishuku hated to admit it, and he jumped despite himself. He studied her small face as she slowly tipped an old earthen pot, full of their father's waste, out the window, after making sure Chuuei and Shunkei were nowhere nearby. For all her bossiness, she was still just a little girl. Too serious by far, and much smaller than she should by all rights be, Kishuku wondered why it was so hard to like her.

'You aren't sick, are you, Nii-san?'

Her voice, young, and impatient, made him half-smile, while her question left him confused. 'Uh, no,' he managed, running a hand through his hair, 'I'm fine. Why?'

She rolled her eyes, a hand on her hip. He figured he'd just answered his own question, as to why he didn't like her, when she shook her head at him. 'Well, if you aren't sick, then I suppose you're just being lazy. What are you still doing here?' The impatience in her voice had been replaced with the scolding tone he'd always found irritating, and Kishuku found it strangely difficult to resist the urge to cuff her.

'Don't worry,' he muttered, turning to leave, and suddenly angry at her. 'We'll have as much ryou as always, even if I have to work a little later to get it.'

With that, he stalked out, ignoring Chuuei's laughing goodbye, and Yuuiren's calls for good luck. He was halfway to the stream when his sudden anger abated enough to realise that Gyokuran had been calling to him as he left, her voice thick with what he thought must have been tears.

'_I'm sorry, Nii-san! I'm sorry! Please don't be mad at me - I'm sorry!'

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_

Mid-afternoon found Kishuku in the forest that bordered the village, wandering aimlessly. It was stupid of him, to give up a full day's work when he wasn't sick, but he couldn't bring himself to focus on the thought long enough to care. While he wasn't certain how he was going to face Chuuei and Shunkei without any ryou in hand, the more pressing matter, to his mind, was the boys' eleven year old sister. Even if he found a chest full of ryou, he didn't think he'd be able to face Gyokuran, not after making her cry.

'What is wrong with me! What kind of jerk attacks his little sister like that? She didn't even do anything!'

The forest was quiet, once his voice died away, and Kishuku sighed. As much as he wanted one, he hadn't expected an answer, but the pain in his throat wasn't due just to his recent screaming, and he was glad for the solitude.

'This isn't working,' he murmured, scuffing his boot against a root that jutted out over a series of large, moss-covered rocks. 'I can't do it anymore; I'm not enough.' He let his words hang in the air for a few moments, their import undiminished by the strange silence around him. His sigh, carrying almost as far as his low voice, was one of defeat.

Ignoring the unnatural stillness of the woods around him, Kishuku leaned against the large, ageless tree that shaded him, and closed his eyes. Maybe, if he just stayed here, he could work out some way to fix things. Or maybe not, and he'd just stay here forever. One less mouth to feed, one less set of clothes to clean... Surely even Chuuei would see the benefit in that... As his thoughts gradually dropped off, he felt his body and mind still pleasantly. This was what he'd been looking for all along, his mind told him. This complete absence of everything, this sudden cessation of responsibility and worry; this was what he needed. It was all for the best, that he stay here, just like this, not moving, not thinking, not breathing...

_Breathe you thrice-blasted fool! Breathe!_

The thought was foreign, not his own, and enough to startle him into inhaling. Sputtering, his oxygen-starved lungs suddenly full once more, Kishuku shuddered. He bent over his knees, unable to control the awful coughing spell that gripped him, unable to control _anything_. It was a horrible feeling, and it made him angry. It made him furious, determined to overcome whatever force it was that had so suddenly grabbed control of his body. Slowly, he focused his mind, concentrating all his will, searching out his mind for the foreign presence that had succeeded in controlling him. Dimly, he noted that his forehead had begun to burn, that his head felt strange, but there wasn't time to acknowledge the observation. He couldn't spare the effort, not when his own body had already turned traitor.

Except, the burn in his forehead was starting to consume all sensation, and everything in sight was covered with a strange red haze, the crimson light staining everything. Somehow, it strengthened him, fortifying his will, until his throat was open again, and merely breathing no longer required impossible effort. By then, the red light had disappeared, and the throbbing of his forehead was vanished, leaving behind not a trace of the headache he'd half-expected.

'That,' a feminine voice declared, somewhere behind him, 'was beyond impressive. Did you realise your forehead was _glowing_!'

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**Author's Notes:**

I suppose I should've posted the standard disclaimer at the top, but it looks so ugly up there! Besides, I imagine it's pretty obvious that I am not Yuu Watase, nor am I in possession of the rights to her work. Otherwise, this wouldn't be fanfiction, it'd be canon, and I wouldn't have posted it here, I'd be selling it as manga.

The little bit just below 'Chapter One' is from a song called 'More Than a Fairytale', by Nancy Brant. Yeah, it isn't mine, either.


End file.
